The Real Guy Fawkes

by Nick Holland

  Guy was also concerned at the effect that the damp conditions could have taken on the gunpowder, as although the cellar was not as wet as the tunnel they’d been working on, it was still affected by the proximity of the River Thames. Opening the barrels and testing the powder by rubbing it between his fingers, Guy realised that some of the powder had deteriorated to the state where it would be unreliable, and so, with the assistance of Thomas Wintour, he replenished his stock: ‘Meanwhile, Mr. Fawkes and myself alone bought some new powder, as suspecting the first to be dank, and conveyed it into the cellar and set it in order as we resolved it should stand’.16

  With the powder in place, Guy would have allowed himself a moment of reflection: it was on this spot that the course of his life would be shaped; he would either successfully fire the powder and escape via the nearby ship, or he would be captured in the act or caught up in the aftermath.

  He was a man who was used to danger, a man who had faced death before, but this was the greatest peril he had faced in his life. Perhaps it is for this reason that he made one last journey to York, allowing him to walk the streets that he had run joyfully down as a child, and paying a visit to his mother for the first time in over ten years. Their embrace as they parted would be their final one, as both Guy and Edith must have suspected at the time.

  Guy’s journey to York was one he was powerless to resist, a vestige of the dutiful and family-loving boy he had once been, but it was also a potentially dangerous move for one who was supposed to be keeping his identity secret. He found York unchanged in one aspect at least: it was still a dangerous place for a Catholic to be, as the executions of lay Catholics Thomas Welbourne and John Fulthering in York in August 1604 had shown.17

  Guy was not the only senior conspirator taking risks at the time. Motivated perhaps by a desire to while away the time until 5 November, or to take his mind away from what lay ahead, or possibly to garner further funds, Robert Catesby now began to dine with some of the leading men in London at the time.

  One such dinner took place at the Irish Boy Inn not far from the Strand on 9 October. Catesby, as always, would have taken centre stage and dominated the conversation, but the exalted guests alongside him were Sir Josceline Percy (brother to the Earl of Northumberland), Lord Mordaunt, Francis Tresham, Thomas Wintour, John Ashfield (brother-in-law to Thomas and Robert Wintour through his marriage to their sister Anne) and the playwright Ben Jonson.18

  The talk around the table may simply have been about the everyday subjects of the day, fashion or who was in and who was out at the court, or they could have been discussing Ben Jonson’s new play, Sejanus His Fall, which had premièred in London on 6 August.19 A controversial play, it examined the story of Sejanus who had been given authority by the cruel Roman emperor Tiberius, but whose own failings and lust for power saw him killed.

  This was an obviously dangerous choice of subject for Jonson, who seemingly hadn’t learnt his lesson from the Isle of Dogs debacle,20 dealing as it did with the tyranny of rulers and the threat of assassination. Some said that it was an allusion to the plight of Catholics, and others that it was an allegory of the life of the Earl of Essex during Elizabeth’s reign. Ben Jonson was also in dangerous company on The Strand, as simply having been seen in the presence of Catesby would later lead to the arrest and questioning of many of those present.

  Could this meeting with Catholic, or Catholic leaning, men of power, influence and wealth have been a means of raising funds for the events to come? It’s certainly possible, though if he did, Catesby most likely presented to the men his tried and trusted tale of trying to raise a regiment for Flanders.

  A meeting that is less easy to explain, and which surely brought far greater danger for Catesby and the plotters, took place on 24 October at the Mitre Tavern in Bread Street, near Cheapside in East London. It was reported to the authorities that Catesby was seen dining with Lord Mordaunt and Sir Josceline Percy, but also present were William Monson, Sir Mark Ive, Dr Taylor, Mr Pickering of Northamptonshire, Mr Hakluyt and Spero Pettingar.21

  This information was given to Robert Cecil – but by whom? Was there an agent of his at the inn, or possibly even at Catesby’s table? Richard Hakluyt (pronounced ‘Hackett’) was a strange table fellow for a Catholic conspirator such as Catesby to choose. A vehement enemy of Spain, he is known today as one of the prime movers behind the English colonisation of North America. He was also undoubtedly a spy for Sir Robert Cecil, and for this reason had earlier been made chaplain to the English embassy in Paris by Cecil’s predecessor Francis Walsingham. As well as being a writer, Hakluyt was a Church of England priest, and in fact was personal chaplain to Robert Cecil.

  Catesby would have to be at his most discreet at table with Hakluyt, who acted as Cecil’s earpiece, and it may be that Spero Pettingar was another government spy. Pettingar had been at Oxford with Hakluyt, and had been a servant to the Countess of Essex, Lettice Knollys, mother of the ill-fated second Earl of Essex. This connection meant that Pettingar was examined on 23 October 1601, in the fallout from the Essex rebellion.22 After dinner, it is reported that Hakluyt and Pettingar left together to ‘study some papers concerning Francis Drake’s navigation’.23 Their actual conversation may have been of an altogether different nature if they had actually been at the tavern on an espionage mission.

  At the same time another group of conspirators had reassembled ready for their part in the plot. Their organiser was Guy Fawkes, who on his way back to London had summoned Thomas Wintour, Thomas Bates, Kit Wright and Jack Wright to meet him. The place was the Bell Inn, Daventry. The innkeeper Matthew Young later testified24 that Guy arrived first and ordered meals for the other men.

  Catesby’s dining and drinking sessions may have been innocent, or they may have been a desperate and dangerous attempt to gain more money for his enterprise. Costs were building up, and Thomas Percy, a man more suited to collecting rents than paying them, had not yet paid for his property, leaving it to Guy, as the servant John Johnson, to pay Henry Ferrers in October.25

  There was one man as yet that Catesby had not called upon, and that he knew was wealthier than anyone yet recruited, and so on 14 October at the Catholic Lord Stourton’s house, Catesby recruited his cousin Francis Tresham. Tresham was not only rich, having married wisely as well as inheriting property from his father Sir Thomas Tresham, he had also proved his worth to the Catholic cause. He, alongside Catesby and others, had been involved in the Essex rebellion, and imprisoned for it, and he had also worked alongside Catesby in sending Thomas Wintour to Spain. Tresham was also from a well-connected family, with two of his sisters being married to the Catholic Lords Stourton and Monteagle respectively. Why then was Francis Tresham added to the plot as an afterthought, a last resort?

  The truth is that Tresham could be unpredictable, and was not liked or trusted by his peers. As a young man he had spent time in prison for assaulting a man and his pregnant daughter, claiming that the family owed him money.26 Perhaps the best indication of Tresham’s character comes from Father Oswald Tesimond who praises the other conspirators fulsomely, but of Tresham says:

  He knew how to look after himself, but was not much to be trusted. This was the view even of those who were most familiar with him. For this reason, I am inclined to think it was none other than Divine Providence which made the conspirators share their plot with him.27

  Tresham did not even prove helpful with the funding of the plot, as Catesby had hoped. After making him take the oath of secrecy and fraternity, and revealing his plans, he had asked his cousin for £2,000 and the use of Tresham’s palatial Rushton Hall in Northamptonshire. Tresham complied with neither of these requests, although he later admitted giving a little money to Thomas Wintour.

  Tresham questioned the validity of the plot, asking if it was right that Catholic Lords who would be in Parliament that day would die along with the Protestant Lords?28 It was a question that others in the plot had already raised with Catesby,29 and while Tresham spoke up for his
brothers-in-law, Stourton and Monteagle, other members of the plot championed Lords Vaux, Mordaunt and Montague, and Thomas Percy stood up for his long-time master the Earl of Northumberland.

  Catesby responded that it was a shame if they were to die too, but that to warn them directly risked destroying their whole plot. Reluctantly, at least if his own confession is to be believed, Francis Tresham agreed to join the plot and be guided by his cousin.

  Nevertheless, on one occasion it seemed that Catesby defied his own instructions. Lord Montague, the man who had employed Guy Fawkes at Cowdray House, testified that he chanced upon Catesby while walking in the Savoy, a Thames-side area off The Strand, on 15 October. Perhaps Tresham’s pleas a day earlier were fresh in Catesby’s mind, for he stopped Montague and said, ‘The Parliament, I think, brings your Lordship up now? I think your Lordship takes no pleasure to be there’.30 On one reading, an inconsequential chat, but on an another reading a thinly veiled warning for Lord Montague to stay away from the opening of Parliament. As it happens, Viscount Montague did not attend Parliament on 5 November. If it was a coincidence it was a costly one, for it placed him under suspicion and led to his arrest ten days later.31

  If Montague had been given a warning, there could be no question of other Catholic peers being warned, or could there? On the night of 26 October, Baron Monteagle was dining with his wife Elizabeth, Francis Tresham’s sister, at their town house in Hoxton, formerly a property of the Tresham family. His servant Thomas Ward was outside taking a stroll in the evening air, when a tall stranger called out to him and asked if the baron was at home? Ward replied that he was at dinner, at which the man handed him a sealed letter and told him to ensure that it was placed into Lord Monteagle’s hands, as it contained matters that concerned him.32 Ward did as he was asked, but Monteagle’s hands were sticky with food and so he broke the seal and handed it back to the servant to read to him. We can imagine Ward pausing at points during the letter, and being waved impatiently along by his master, for the contents were as scandalous in 1605 as they are today. Known as the Monteagle letter, it is one of the most controversial documents in English history, and it was to lead directly to the deaths of Guy Fawkes, Robert Catesby, and all those involved in the plot, along with many others who were inadvertently caught in its web. The missive was undated and unsigned, and it read:

  My Lord, out of the love I bear to some of your friends, I have a care of your preservation, therefore I would advise you as you tender your life to devise some excuse to shift your attendance at this Parliament, for God and man have concurred to punish the wickedness of this time, and think not slightly of this advertisement, but retire yourself into your country, where you may expect the event in safety, for though there be no appearance of any stir, yet I say they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament and yet they shall not see who hurts them. This counsel is not to be condemned because it may do you good and can do you no harm, for the danger is past as soon as you have burnt the letter and I hope God will give you the grace to make good use of it, to whose holy protection I commend you.33

  Chapter 19

  A Traitor in the Brotherhood

  Open suspecting others comes of secret

  condemning themselves

  Philip Sidney, Arcadia

  The whole history of England would change depending on how Baron Monteagle reacted to the letter delivered to him on that October night. If he ignored the letter, or failed to see the importance of it, then the likelihood is that Parliament would have been blown up by Guy Fawkes, destroying the Protestant ruling class and plunging England into a civil war. The action Monteagle did take set in motion a chain of events that prevented this from happening, but which brought along deadly consequences of their own.

  Lord Monteagle’s confusion upon hearing the letter is understandable, and it was explained in the King’s Book, a brief and speedily published official account of the gunpowder plot written on behalf of King James and with an introduction by Thomas Lord, Bishop of London:

  No sooner did he conceive the strange contents thereof, although he was somewhat perplexed what construction to make of it, as whether a matter of consequence, as indeed it was, or whether some foolish devised pasquil [a piece of wit or satirical writing] by some of his enemies to scare him from his attendance at the Parliament, yet did he, as a most dutiful and loyal subject, conclude not to conceal it, whatever might come of it.1

  The exact meaning of the letter was far from certain to Monteagle, but the menace within it was obvious – even if it did state that it meant him no harm. It also, of course, stated that the danger was past as soon as the letter was burnt, meaning the danger to the sender as this would destroy any evidence, but unfortunately for the sender, whoever it may be, Monteagle kept a firm grip upon it rather than consigning it to the flames.

  There was only one person that Monteagle could trust with a letter of this kind, and who would surely discern the hidden meaning within it – the Secretary of State, Sir Robert Cecil. It was around seven o’clock in the evening when the baron received the letter from his servant, and yet he wasted no time in calling upon Cecil, donning his spurs and riding through the dark the four miles from his property in Hoxton to Cecil’s at Whitehall. When he arrived he was fortunate to find not only the Secretary of State at home, but also the Earls of Worcester, Northampton, Nottingham and Suffolk who were taking a late supper with Cecil, who had himself been created Earl of Salisbury earlier that year.2 Once the formalities of greeting were over, Monteagle wasted no time in asking to speak to Cecil on a private matter of some concern. Excusing themselves from the guests, Cecil escorted Monteagle to a private office, and it was there that the letter was handed over.

  Cecil betrayed little emotion while reading the letter – as England’s long serving spymaster he had read many like it before, and was expert at reading hidden meanings and half-cyphers. It would tie in with reports of growing Catholic unrest that Cecil had been receiving throughout the year, including the letter forwarded to him by the Brussels ambassador Sir Thomas Edmondes warning of a planned uprising backed by Spain.3

  Cecil next showed the letter to the Earls of Suffolk, Nottingham, Worcester, and Northampton (the latter two were themselves Catholics4), and asked for their opinion on the matter. This was, in effect, a meeting of the highest councillors in England, for while Cecil was Principal Secretary of State, the Earl of Suffolk was Lord Chamberlain and the Earl of Nottingham was the Lord High Admiral.

  The earls seemed less concerned than either Monteagle or Cecil had been, and were of the opinion that the letter was of no real importance. It was simply the product of a fantasist or a lone man holding a grudge against the King or his Parliament.5 Cecil, however, said to the earls that the letter ‘put him in mind of diverse advertisements he had received from beyond the seas... concerning some business the Papists were in, both at home and abroad, making preparations for some combination amongst them against this Parliament-time’.6

  As ever, Cecil’s opinion held sway, but as the King himself was away at a hunt in Royston, Hertfordshire,7 they agreed to show him the letter upon his return and seek his opinion. He was expected back at the end of October, and as the threat was seemingly related to the opening of Parliament five days after that it was decided that the delay wouldn’t bring any further risks. Cecil also hoped that these extra days would give the plot more time to ripen and that this would make the perpetrators more evident and easier to bring to justice.8

  King James was a keen huntsman who often went on extravagant hunts lasting days or weeks,9 and his courtiers knew not to disturb him when he was in the pursuit of pleasure. It is said that Robert Catesby told Anne Vaux, in conversation at White Webbs, that he himself had been planning to join the King on this hunt.10 If true, this shows the confidence and calmness he felt a week before his planned assassination of the King and his ministers, and not a little recklessness. If Catesby was free to join the Royston hunt then it is likely that he had been on such hun
ts before. Catesby was renowned as an expert and fearless horseman, and was therefore just the kind of man the King would have wanted alongside him. In these circumstances an unseen push would been enough to kill the King in what would have been taken as an accident, but Catesby resisted temptation just as Guy Fawkes had when next to the King at the London wedding.

  Lord Monteagle wasn’t the only one facing a dilemma on that October day, nor the only one who would receive a message that chilled his bones. Thomas Ward, Monteagle’s servant who had received the letter from the unknown stranger, was also connected to the complex web joining the conspirators together. It is believed that Kit Wright’s wife, Margaret Ward, was the sister of Thomas.11 Ursula Wright, younger sister of Kit and Jack Wright, had also married a Ward, Marmaduke, who may have been related to Thomas (it was Ursula’s daughter Mary Ward who founded the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary who in turn founded York’s Bar Convent12). While it is probable that Thomas Ward had familial connections to the Wrights, it is certain that he knew Thomas Wintour, as Wintour had also been in the employ of Lord Monteagle for many years.13

  The day after the delivery of the letter, 27 October, Ward happened upon Thomas Wintour and told him about the strange encounter he’d had the night before, and about the letter read to his master and the baron’s reaction to it.14 Like most aspects of the Monteagle letter story, this raises more questions than answers. Did Ward accidentally alight upon his former colleague Wintour, and in passing tell him the latest news from the Monteagle household, or was it something more sinister? Is the truth that Ward deliberately sought Thomas Wintour out, recognizing or guessing his connection to the events hinted at by the letter? We shall never know, although it has been suggested that Ward was a spy for the Catholic cause and may have known much about Catesby’s plot.